HIS ONE TRUE LOVE

BROOKLYN 3

Four shots of tequila, four! And my nerves were far from steady, my nerves were all over the place and I could feel my control slipping. Clearly I had underestimated this— all of this, it was too much and I was struggling so badly to keep it together.

“There you are..’’ a silky smooth voice called behind me.

Max cupped a hand around my waist, he seemed fine, seemed like he was enjoying this a little too much. His smile had not wavered since the party started three hours ago while I was here, almost shitting myself.

“Hey—’’ I forced a smile.

He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I have been looking everywhere for you, baby. It's time for us to dance”

Baby? Where the hell did that even come from?

“Dance again? We did already. Twice, I pouted.

He smiled at me warmly. “It's important that we do, such are the requirements of these things. They are imperative—”

“It's fine.. Fine, let's go dance,” I cut him off, walking ahead. If he says requirements one more time, I’ll drown myself.

We stepped onto the dance floor. My parent’s foyer had been transformed into a grand ballroom, it was magnificent, magical. It was everything a girl could hope for, it was everything that should have made me happy, but all I felt was this hollow ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away no matter how badly I wanted it to. All of my thoughts led to him, to the one man that everything made sense with. Harlan.

I closed my eyes, then opened them and searched the room for something that could anchor me. My eyes shifted from face to face until I saw Hannah. She was looking right at me, I knew she could feel what I was feeling, and she gave me a pitying nod. She was right, this was not me, I was in the right place, in the wrong room, in the right dress with someone who felt like the wrong man.

I had gotten good at pretending I belonged in rooms like this.

Crystal chandeliers, champagne laughter, tailored suits, diamonds pretending to be subtle, and me—letting Maximilian Ford guide me in a slow turn across the dance floor like I had not been mildly considering running barefoot into traffic an hour ago.

He was smiling at me again, his hand firmly put on my lower back.

He stared at me not like he was in love, not in awe, but more like I was mildly amusing—like a puzzle box someone gifted him and he was not sure if he should bother opening yet.

“Are you having fun?” he asked, his voice low enough to be swallowed by the music.

“Yes, yeah… Absolutely.” I lied, my lips curving into what I hoped passed for a smile.

His smile widened. He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Your face doesn’t agree with your words.”

I froze for half a heartbeat before biting down on my lower lip and forcing a softer smile. “I’m just… overwhelmed. It’s a lot. The scale, the crowd. Everything feels tedious and over the top.”

I am going to marry the man, I may as well start opening up to him.

He chuckled, a quiet sound like he had expected that answer, like I had said something cute not damning. “You’ll get used to it. Soon you’ll be my wife, and we’ll host balls of our own. This is just preparation.”

Regret tasted like metal at the back of my throat. Proof that I should have said nothing, I should have stayed quiet and pretty and agreeable. He didn’t need to know that the only thing I wanted to host was my own exit.

I hated that I had let myself slip, that I had given him any glimpse of what I was really feeling. My mask was safer. My silence was safer.

The song changed and my heart stopped.

I recognized the first few songs instantly. A playlist I had not heard in a year—but one that had lived in my bones like a ghost that refused to leave.

“Where did you get this? The playlist I mean.” I asked before I could stop myself.

Max arched a brow. “You like it?”

I nodded, unable to form anything else.

“It’s my brother, Harry. He plays it all the time at the summer houses. Bahamas, Cape Verde, Italy—wherever we end up, it’s the same playlist, always. I guess I grew to love it too, so I put in a special request to have it played tonight..”

Harry. Right, his brother. The one I am supposed to be matchmaking with Hannah tonight.

“Your brother has good taste, would he be coming?” I managed.

Max’s gaze softened a little, more thoughtful than usual. “Yes, he called an hour ago, he is most definitely on his way here and I can’t wait for you two to meet.”

“You always seem excited when you talk about your brother,” I tilted my head waiting for an answer.

Max smiled, a deeply loving one. “I love my brother a lot. He lights up every room he walks into, he’s a ball of sunshine. He lights up my world.”

“Wow, I don’t think I have ever heard you talk like that about anyone,” I said, slightly amused.

Max smirked. “I don’t think we’ve ever really talked.”

I forced a breath through my nose and tried not to crumble.

He studied me a moment longer. “I know this was not exactly your marriage of choice, you didn’t ask for this. I mean we both didn’t,” he said.

The words hit like a slap—because it was true, and because I hated that he knew.

“But,” he continued, “I think we’ll make it work. I would like to start by actually getting to know you.”

Before I could respond, the music cut out and his hand slid from my waist. He pressed a small, polite kiss to my lips—barely there, like a subtle performance.

“I’ll find you later,” he said, and disappeared into a sea of ivory gowns and family friends.

The moment he was gone, I exhaled hard and rushed off the dance floor, making a beeline for the only lifeline in this gilded nightmare.